Child of None
by Nutella-in-a-bowl
Summary: Novice and English cousin of Desmond Miles, Sarah, may not know it, but she has value greater than the biggest of diamonds. That's why the Assassins fight hard to keep her safe from the Templars. It's a matter of life or death for the young girl- she must learn to endure the disorientation of the Animus, as well as the stings of physical and mental wounds.


_Life is definitely something I would not consider easy. There are always going to be people who want to make the worst of you, as well as the people who love and support you. There are ups and down, lefts and rights, goods days and bad days. Just when you think everything is fine, when everything is going well, something happens which makes you regret everything you've ever said and done._

I know that wishing for something won't make it happen. I know that fate, even if the thought of it keeps you sane, will never completely be on your side. Fate always brings out the worst of you, and there is nothing you can do about it. You just have to endure it- like if you have to scratch your butt in class or something.

This is coming from an eleven year old. An eleven year old who is very much aware of the wars, the pain, and the suffering of the world.

That's how messed up this planet is. We may think we're doing the right thing by releasing chemicals into the ocean for science, and being violent to prove a point, but it's just an overcooked recipe for disaster.

And once it's burned, there's nothing we can do to go back.

* * *

I woke up, and was blinded by a white light which was shining directly into my eyes. Instinctively, I squinted my eyes and tried to move my head away from it. As I started to gather myself, I began to become aware of the silhouettes of the people crowding around me. I heard talking but I didn't understand what was being said. I tried to move my arms but they wouldn't move. It took me another moment to realise I was strapped to a table. Like a mental patient who was being cut open.

The light went out, and I tried tugging at my restraints. The voices sounded more stressed, and I started being more aware of my surroundings. The room was almost clear- a large white space, with a few units with numerous tools and monitors. There were about two dozen people, some wearing medic masks, others wearing white lab coats. I looked down at myself and saw that I was wearing a green hospital garment. I began to panic and started writhing.

"Miss Gratton, we need you to calm down."

These people were Abstego. _Why was I here? What happened? What were they doing to me?_

Oh. I remember._ Uncle Bill. The Assassins. _

_The Animus._

With a roar of effort, I tore myself out of the restraints. I was pulled back by wires strapped to my head, but I tore those off too. Workers tried to stop me, but I managed to charge through them and take them down.

"She's escaping," I overheard one of the workers say into his phone. _Harrison_.  
"_Well?_" I heard the reply,"_Capture her and place her in the Animus on my floor._"  
"Yes sir."

I started to run. And run. And run. My heart was pounding so furiously against my chest I thought it was going to burst out of it. I heard shouting and running footsteps behind me and my heart moved faster still.

_What do I do? What do I do? __I can't use the elevator- they're too close behind me. Neither can I use the stairs- too many people. Maybe there was a window or a fire exit-_

-I shrieked as I was tackled over. Several men took a firm grasp on me, and started to carry/drag (I'm really not sure what that action was) towards a door. The door slid open and I was pulled into another white room. This one was more furnished, more decorated, but it had many more monitors and devices in there too.

An old man with a short white beard and white hair wearing a lab coat over an expensive-looking suit stood in front of a seat with dozens of wires attached to it. He had his hands clasped behind his back and a dominant manor about him. Doctor Vidic. He had a sly smile on his face, one a fox would make when it corners a poor rabbit.

My eyes widened in realization. _ He was going to put me in the Animus again. They were going to use me as a Guiana pig and mess with my head even more than they had._

I was going to be in a shitload of pain: emotionally, physically, and mentally.

"No! NO!" I cried, desperately trying to struggled in my captor's grips,"Let me go! Please! Don't make me go in there again!"

"Ready the Animus!" barked the Doctor, before returning his stare on me.

"N-no! Please!" I managed to slow them down by wriggling constantly, but soon they'd manage...

"Don't worry," assured Vidic,"It won't be as bad as the other times. There's a strong chance that we'll be successful this time."

I was pinned down into the seat, and had two needles stuck into each arm. I screamed, as I felt an electrical surge run directly into my veins. Vidic leaned over me, his hands still clasped behind his back,  
"We've discovered something about the Animus which may be a huge breakthrough," explained Vidic, "We believe that as well as accessing the memories of our ancestors, we can also alter theirs so you're imprinted into their minds. It'll be like a dream for them, but for you it'll be so real. Amazing, don't you agree? And you're going to try out this method, to see if it works."

"Bill will come for me!" I exclaimed,"Desmond will too! A-and my dad!"

He sent me a pitied look, and he tutted,

"You don't remember, do you? Ah, yes. Amnesia is the main side effect of the experiments we're doing...Miss Gratton. Your father is dead. I killed him, remember? "

_Oh. Oh yes, that's right. Dad's dead.  
And mum. They're both dead._

"Sweet dreams, Miss Gratton."

I felt my eyes shutting without my consent. I soon blacked out.  


* * *

  
**General POV**  
_The year- 1191. _

An orphaned girl, about eleven, has been travelling for days to get to a small village called Masyaf. Her name is Channelle Talcard.

Channelle's father had told her to go to Masyaf should anything happen to him, and seek the brotherhood which live in the citadel. Her father's death seemed like an appropriate enough reason to go there.

It was dark by the time she'd arrived. She was exhausted and needed shelter, and quickly took refuge inside an old stable. The place smelled funny, and the hay was itchy, but at least it was something. There was a bucket of water which seemed clean enough, so Channelle washed her face and splashed water on herself. Squinting her eyes, she made out her reflection in the water and stared at the girl staring back. Her bronze hair was falling out of the tie, she had a few grazes on her face. Her eyes were hazel, with bright green and yellow specks. She had a petite button nose, and her lips were full and rosy-coloured. Her eyebrows were maybe a little bushy, and her face shape was an oval, but overall she was a rather nice-looking girl.

Channelle sighed, giving her face one last splash.  
"Why would you want me talking to a few monks, father?" she asked aloud, lying back in the hay. She shifted about, making herself comfortable. Sighing loudly, she closed her eyes and tried to get to sleep.

**Meanwhile, in the citadel**  
Altair Ibn-la'Ahad grunted loudly as he slashed the dummy with his shortsword. He couldn't sleep, so he did what he always did when this problem occurred- train. He slashed and he jabbed the dummy until its straw innards were all over the place. If it were a person, there would have been a sickening bloody mess before him.

Breathing lightly, the assassin sat down on the fence. He looked up at the sky; it was a rather clear night, and the stars were visible in the dark blue-black sky. The night sky was one of the few things Altair appreciated (aside from his profession and his Master). It calmed him somehow.

He took a moment to gather himself. The reason he couldn't sleep was because he had an important mission coming up. He had to drag two other assassins along (brothers Malik and Kadar) but that wasn't the issue. Al Mualim made it very clear about how vital it was to succeed. Even though there was a very slim chance Altair would slip up, the voice in the back of his head wouldn't stay its tongue, and it bothered him extremely.  
"I shouldn't worry," Altair said aloud,"Worrying about it will make me fail."  
He stood up and began slicing his troubles away again, but on a different dummy.  


* * *

  
**In the morning**

The scorching heat of the sun woke the young girl. The hay was warm, and beads of sweat formed on her face. She sat up, splashed her face with water, and exited the stable in search of food.

It wasn't even midday and yet the village was full of life: children giggling and rushing about, merchants chatting to each other, women carrying pots walking around, husbands gossiping- there seemed to be too many people for such a small village.

Channelle eyed the crowd of people not too far away. The market. She wandered over to it, and began scanning the different stalls with her eyes. There was a large variety of things: glittering baubles, strange contraptions, grains, spices, herbs, and fruit.

_Fruit._

Her attention went to an apple, which in her opinion looked a bit lonely. She smirked at that thought, but then grew serious. She swiftly walked past the fruit stall, snatched the apple, and ran for cover. She hid behind a building which emitted a cool shade, and below it had a bale of hay.  
"Huh...there's an awful lot of hay around," muttered Channelle. She then looked at the apple in her hand and grinned triumphantly. "Not bad..." She took a satisfied bite.

After she was finished, she stretched and yawned, quite relaxed. The brotherhood would have to wait, she decided, I'm happy here.

Suddenly there was a crash which mad Channelle jump out her skin. There were raised voices, and she was almost horrified to hear that some of those voices were speaking English.  
"I'm asking if you've seen this girl!" there was the rustling of paper.

"A-ah! I not know!"

"Have you or haven't you seen her?! It's a simple question!"

"I-I not understand. Arabic please?"  
There was a scream and a cry of pain.

_The Templars.  
_  
She poked her head out from behind the building to see people running away from the scene, and a merchant lying limp on the floor, blood covering his tunic. Several armed men in chainmail armour were spread about the market. Then one of them noticed the the bronze haired girl poking her head from behind a building and pointed.

"There! There she is! GET HER!"  
The other Templars saw where he was looking and started running towards Channelle.

_Shit.  
_  
She ran.

Little did she know, she was being watched as she pushed people out the way and darted through Masyaf. A mildly curious Altair had been running an errand when the commotion started. His first reaction was to kill all but one of the Templars and take that one back for interrogation, but after it became clear that they were solely after a little girl, his interest was caught. For starters, this girl was light skinned and had an unusual hair colour for someone of the Middle East, so why the Templars were after a child who was from their own country, he did not know. He sort of ... _wanted _to know.

And the way she sprinted: hands uncurled and fingers streamline, head low, elbows sharp- Altair noticed she had been trained by similar techniques the assassins used.

He followed the Templars chasing Channelle around Masyaf, wanting to see what would happen next, but also with the intent to reveal himself and kill the enemies.

Channelle was cornered between a cliff-face and a two walls. There were four Templars blocking her escape.  
"We've got you now," growled the leader,"You have two options: come with us, or we gut you here and now."

"Where's the part where I send you to hell?" retorted the girl. The leader snarled and swung his sword down onto her. She dipped out of the way, grabbed his wrist and bent it in a painful way, which made him drop his heavy weapon. She kicked the back of his shins so he fell to the ground and she then booted him in the face, rendering him unconscious. She quickly picked up the sword and blocked a heavy blow from another attacker. She slammed her foot into his crotch, threw the sword at one of his comrades, scooped up dirt and chucked it at the last man's helmet and scrambled clumsily up one of the walls.

In a babble of shouting, the Templars followed her tracks, climbing up the wall and running across the rooftops.

Again, Channelle got to a dead end. Coincidentally, they were on top of a blacksmith and there were several scraps of metal spread out on the roof. She picked up a long, thin, sharp piece of metal, and attacked, bringing it down on the shoulder of a Templar. It managed to break the chainmail and he let out a cry of pain. She kicked him in the stomach and impaled him with her weapon. Little did she realize that as she was bent over, lowering the body of the dying soldier, the last remaining Templar was about to behead her.

Channelle turned around as she heard a strained groan. The dead Templar had a knife in his neck, blood quickly oozing from the wound. She swallowed, and she felt the apple churn inside her stomach. She began to back away slowly, alert and quite frightened, only to bump into someone.

She turned around to see a tall, well built man in a white robe and tunic with a red sash. It was Altair.

He had his hood up, hiding most of his face. Channelle wondered how he could see with it covering his eyes like that. He was also very heavily armed- a short sword was strapped to his back, and several throwing knives sat in sheaths on the big leather belt on his chest. He was equipped with a sword, too, but the thing which nerved her the most was the decorated bracer on his left forearm. He was lacking a ring finger on his left hand, and Channelle knew why. Her father had one of those- a hidden blade. He wore it all the time but never used it. Well, that's what he told her anyway.

"What's your name?" asked Altair. He spoke Arabic, but this wasn't a problem for Channelle.

"Why do you want to know?" she asked, rather foolishly seeing how well-armed her 'saviour' was.

"I asked you a question. With me as your elder, and with the fact I just saved your life, it would be polite to reply. Do I have to ask again?"

Channelle's face dropped to a scowl,  
"Channelle. Your's?"

He sent her a sarcastic smile, and continued:  
"Come with me. I know someone who would be interested in you."

"Interested in me?" she repeated, arching an eyebrow, "Where are you from, a whore-house? Or...are you one of those 'monks' from the citadel?" 

Altair ignored that first question,  
"...The word 'monks' wouldn't be appropriate . You could say that we're a brotherhood who follow their own..._.religion_, but monks we are not. Nearly the opposite, in fact."

"Opposite? So...vigilantes?"

"If you come with me, you will find out."

_Damn him. _

Channelle narrowed her eyes at him for a moment. He did come from the place her father had told her to seek..._so it must be safe._

"Fine," she answered.

Altair gestured at her to come with him, before he began sprinting off. Channelle followed his lead, struggling to keep up.

* * *

**A/N This is a COMPLETE re-write of the fanfic I wrote in 2011. To those who've just joined me- Hello! ^_^ Okay.**

**Let me explain.**

**I finished writing this story in late 2012, so the sequel is already out. It's called 'Alliance'. I won't link you to it yet, but I will after I've modified it completely. In the meantime, if you want to read it, go ahead. But the start of it is quite poor with plenty of mistakes. I'm very insecure about my writing, see. **


End file.
